I did not expect to be so triggered by the news of Ruth Perry’s tragic death. I thought that I was doing fine after the devastation of my own school’s Ofsted inspection. But the trauma buried deep inside came hurtling back, leaving me broken, upset, angry and hugely resentful.
As human leaders, we bury our emotions as we place the well-being of others over ourselves. But now I feel that I cannot be silent as the tears keep on coming – the dam has broken, there is no going back. This is my story of how the inspection of my school impacted upon me, and still does today.
Inspection at the beginning of the first post-Covid school year
My school was inspected the day after October half-term 2021. The Friday before the holiday, I’d thanked an exhausted and emotional staff for their hard work and commitment to children and colleagues during one of the most difficult half-terms we could remember, the beginning of the first school year post-lockdown.
Covid was still present in the community; there had been high absence rates amongst pupils and staff, which had placed considerable pressure on our one form entry primary school.
However, through the first seven weeks of that school year, we’d managed to survive, teach well, and carry on with the curriculum development that had been halted over the period of lockdown and consequent disruptions.
My mantra had always been, we do what is best for the children, never for Ofsted! During this period of pressure and turmoil, I’d also supported several teachers and staff facing huge personal issues and upheavals in their lives.
When I received the call from Ofsted, I remember telling the staff, “We’ve got this. Ofsted will see the hard work we have done, and the efforts we have made to put our children first and foremost in what we do”. Some expressed considerable anxiety, and I remember reassuring them to “just teach as you teach every day”.
A harsh judgement
I understand now that I was naïve. On the day of the inspection, trusted members of my leadership team expressed suspicions about the inspectors. The way they were questioned led them to believe that we had already been judged, and that the inspectors were looking for evidence to back a case for harsh judgement.
I now realise that our school was judged through a similar lens as Ruth’s school, Caversham Primary. We were given the same feedback; that our safeguarding administration was ineffective. Sadly, I am unable to say more on this to protect the children I still serve. I will however say that the “lack of evidence” accusation was contentious, and the “issues” raised were able to be immediately rectified.
As I repeatedly said to the inspectors, nothing we do as a school is to deliberately make any child unsafe. In feedback sessions with me, and members of the governing board, the inspectors had confirmed that all children were safe. They confirmed that we had taken the right steps in safeguarding children.
But when the report came out, we were devastated to read “pupils are potentially at risk or may not get the help and support they need”. It turned out that the inspectors had proposed that the safeguarding paperwork was not “obvious”, and that some governors (an unpaid, voluntary role) were “inexperienced”.
Our school was consequently judged ‘inadequate’ in early November of 2021 because safeguarding was judged ineffective. There was nothing I could say or do to change this.
The initial inspection report also contained reference to many things we were doing well. We were judged ‘good’ in ‘behaviour and attitude’, also ‘personal development’. But our prioritising of pupil, staff and family mental health did not seem to matter at all to the final outcome; the great Ofsted conundrum.
Covid was not taken into consideration, even though it was less than a year after lockdown had been lifted.
It may be fair to propose that under the Ofsted criteria, and given the national situation at the time, our school was not ‘outstanding’. But I am still emphatic that we were not, and never have been ‘inadequate’.
Devastating consequences
I remember breaking down in front of two inspectors; how devastated and emotional I was. I challenged them to help me understand how I can carry on with leadership, and informed them that yes, I did take it personally, being judged ‘inadequate’.
I asked them how a humane organisation could treat people and communities in this way. I asked them to reflect how they would feel and act, given both inspectors were former headteachers, if they were sitting in my chair.
The only reply I received was that I now “had the mandate to turn the school around”. Turn around from what? I have always put my heart and soul into my role; I serve my school community long beyond my salaried hours; I always have the best interest of staff and pupils at heart, pursuing academic excellence, but not at the expense of well-being.
Like Ruth, I was required to be silent on our outcome for seven weeks, through Christmas and New Year, until the beginning of February. I had to reassure a staff team who guessed something was amiss; I had to reassure parents that all was OK, and that the report would be communicated to them when published, all at a time when my own heart was breaking.
I felt totally exhausted, drained and broken. I kept thinking, there is no way back. I felt alone.
Reliving a terrible experience
When I read Ruth’s story, this all came crashing back. The sleepless nights, the crying endlessly at home with my husband picking me up; my children trying their best to support an unhappy mother who looked lost. And most of all, the feeling of being a failure and of failing. I continually over-thought the likely impacts – what would our parents say and do? How are we ever going to come out of this as a small school dependent on pupil numbers to survive?
On bonfire night 2021 there was a school and community event at which I had to make a speech, knowing the judgement, but unable to say anything about it. Although I remained devastated, I remember starting to feel strangely proud, as I stood in front of those assembled, reminding myself of what we had truly achieved during the pandemic.
Our school had kept a community safe, cared for, and alive. Our ethos of inclusion, courage, service, and collaboration saw us through a time like no other.
I have been told that my words that night were inspirational and hopeful, but this is the one thing I don’t remember.
Six working months later, Ofsted came back and turned a monitoring inspection into a full inspection, which moved the judgement up one notch to ‘requires improvement’.
From my point of view, and that of the staff, nothing much had therefore changed since the last, devastating grading. I had to work even harder to ensure the staff were supported mentally, emotionally, and physically; at pre-empting difficult conversations with parents and considering how we can increase pupil numbers after the inspection. I had to deal with the fact that some parents used the judgement to unfairly (in my opinion) criticise the school for any perceived errors.
Enduring trauma
I have become more cynical. My heart has been broken, and I am unsure how to mend it. I have thoughts of leaving headship, in fact, leaving the sector altogether, as I observe injustice in the way education serves all our children, and our staff who work tirelessly every single day.
There is too much politics, division, and unhealthy competition in education, with inspections being part of the battleground. I do not have to imagine Ruth’s experience of Ofsted, as I believe it was also mine; the devastating impact of the inspection on top of all the other pressures that post-pandemic life and the daily round can bring.
Seeking improvement
The one thing I do know is that this cannot be the legacy our generation of educators leave behind. The way schools are inspected and ‘labelled’ must change immediately. If Ofsted is about improving schools, then they must find a way to truly help leaders improve their schools in ways that support them to rapidly improve.
This will not be achieved by leaving broken leaders behind, denying them a voice to raise concerns appropriately. Schools, leaders, and communities should be supported to continually improve together, rather than being harshly and summarily judged, then left in a trail of devastation with the prospect of being harshly judged again a few months later.
Ofsted must be re-imagined as an organisation to support and enhance school leadership, and cease to be a wrecking ball that maims, injures, or at worst, destroys.
